His customers live largely in Kitsap County, 25 miles to the south, an area made prosperous by massive Naval spending over the last decade. We drive toward the recently reopened Hood Canal Bridge, which * V M--.. •wl he USS Ohio, the first actively deployed Trident submarine, is home based I at the Bangor Nuclear Submarine Base, situated on Hood Canal some 20 crow’s miles west of Seattle. Bangor is directly linked by water to spots throughout the Puget Sound, and thence to the wide Pacific. Like many Northwesterners, I’ve been drawn repeatedly to the area, for hikes in the Olympics, scuba diving and visits to Port Townsend and the San Juans. This visit, however, I come in search of the elusive Trident. Thirteen ways of Looking at Trident Story and Photos by David Milholland For Amanda and Zak Thanks to Wallace Stevens The drive northward from Portland puts me alongside the lower Hood Canal as a dark February night begins its reign. Hurrying to make my niece’s birthday party that evening in Port Townsend, I reconstruct the landscape from memory, most specifically a bicycle trip some three years previous. Then the autumn sun and the glittering waters had done much to convince me I live in a kind of paradise. This trip I find myself musing on the black courier this inland sea sends forth to prowl the depths. Submerging somewhere in the Straits of San Juan de Fuca, the Trident visits waterways connected to this peaceful channel only by the imagination ’s furthest reckoning. Its nuclear pulse corseted in lead, its crew going quietly stir crazy as the weeks prolong petty conflicts and letters home gather dust, one Trident submarine carries missiles targeting up to 192 different cities or missile silos, each projectile bearing a potential blast 5 times that of Hiroshima. How am I connected to this machine? How do people who live here nearby, in its thrall, come to terms with its presence? And what can, should, will be done about it? The car rockets up a “ h ill” that had seemed the Himalayas on our 10- speeds, and before I can say Jack Robinson I’ve arrived in Port Townsend. I’m home, away from home, the USS Ohio moving while I sleep. My brother H Douglas and I breakfast at the Salal Cafe, after loading the truck full of Port Townsend Bread for his route. (Before we depart, he buys me the locally produced Dalmo’ma Anthology, which is full of poetry and material on Trident.) draws open in the center to accommodate vessels even larger than Trident. It is grey, fog slung, dreary. Minutes later, we roll up to the first of several supermarkets, where the bread is a staple. Mark-lt, in Poulsbo, Continued on next page Above: Dan Stevenson of Bremerton resigned a high paying Navy job as an act of conscience. Below: Doug, Nancy and Amanda Milholland are active in the Port Townsend community.
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